


A Just Surrender

by ToolMusicLover



Series: A Just Surrender [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Caning, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, Dominant Obi-Wan Kenobi, Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi, Execution, Firm but gentle Dom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Name-Calling, POV Anakin Skywalker, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, Subdrop, Submissive Anakin Skywalker, Subspace, Suitless Darth Vader, Unhealthy Relationships, but not of Obi-Wan or Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27260962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToolMusicLover/pseuds/ToolMusicLover
Summary: Anakin is subject to his Master's punishment as a result of his treachery against their Empire, though perhaps, he'll find himself surrendering willingly.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: A Just Surrender [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944115
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135





	1. Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all,
> 
> I’d recommend that you read part one of this series, it isn't absolutely necessary, but it will help you understand Anakin’s current frame of mind.
> 
> There will be themes of BDSM in the second chapter, so if that makes you uncomfortable then you may want to give it a miss.
> 
> Despite all the angst I promise that the story has a happy ending.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin is publically punished for his crimes against the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is quite a bit of angst, anxiety and sadness in this chapter so please be prepared. I promise there's a happy ending, with smut and fluff, in the second chapter.
> 
> Warnings: There is an execution scene in this chapter, it isn't graphic, but I know it's not for everyone. And don't fret, it's not of either Anakin or Obi-Wan.

Anakin ran his hands through his unruly curls as he stood outside the entrance leading to the Emperor’s Court. Dread sat cold and heavy at the bottom of his stomach, the anxious swirl had been so constant and threatening in the past two standard weeks that he felt hollow and incomplete. He seemed like a shadow of himself from just a month prior, his worry so potent that not only had his mentality suffered but his body had to.

In the few short weeks of his isolation he had become gaunt and pale, his usual lustrous tan skin now a long lost memory of his previous self. He had been unable to eat, unable to sleep, to function as he should in the absence of his Master. The ominous knowledge of his unknown punishment and the very real fact that it was his Master who was out there somewhere planning it caused his chest to clench and his throat to tighten anew each time his thoughts inevitably strayed. 

This anxiety was different to the panic he had felt whilst travelling from Shili back to Coruscant, knowing that his Master knew of his treason, and then the horror that had encompassed him when he later learnt that his Master had found out the full extent of _all_ his betrayals. That panic had been an ache in his stomach so intense that he had worried he would vomit all over his and his Master’s white marble floor. Instead, this fear restricted his breathe and his head pulsed angrily with a never ending migraine. He supposed that he should be grateful, and he was, for his death or potential exile were no longer a looming threat, but now that that fear had been overcome another had come to take its place. Just how exactly did his Master plan to punish him for his crimes?

Every time he considered this question he reached an infuriating stumbling block. As a Padawan Obi-Wan would have punished him with extra meditation, or an increased number of chores and as a Jedi Knight his Master hadn’t had to worry about these responsibilities. These reprimands were so insignificant that he had failed to take them seriously then and he failed to do so now.

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat when he reflected on the only tangible example he had of being punished by his Master. Of the time when he had returned to his Master’s side after having killed Sidious - as he had promised his one true Master he would do, after he had slaughtered his Master’s family and after he had betrayed the love and trust that had been between them. Rather naively he had thought that his Master wouldn’t punish him at all. He had returned to Obi-Wan with the expectation that the kind, merciful Jedi Master would accept him back into his arms despite all that he had done. Instead he had returned to find a desolate, broken Force signature where there should have only been blinding warmth.

His Master had accepted him back, but he had done so with icy detachment and an ire so menacing that at first Anakin had been unable to look into its cold depths without feeling anything but despair. That had been his Master’s punishment. To accept his pleas for forgiveness, to agree to take him on as his Apprentice and join him in his proposed plan to take control of the Galaxy, but not to welcome him back into his heart.

His Master had been untouchable, both within their bond and within their personal relationship. Anakin had always been a tactile person, he needed the touch of his Master and soft caress of his Force signature as proof that the love and need between them was authentic and reciprocated. Of course, his Master had known all of this, he knew Anakin better than anyone and so with a cruelty that Anakin hadn’t known he possessed his Master had denied him the very thing he needed the most – his affection and love.

He was near inconsolable over this loss in those initial few months, yet he strived to win back his Master’s affection and eventually he did. Their love wasn’t the same as it had been during the Clone War, it was no longer subtle or discreet, now it was volatile and intoxicating whilst simultaneously still being tender.

The large white marble doors in front of him opened suddenly and he dragged himself back to the present. He was greeted to the sight of the Emperor’s Twi’lek court advisor, Sinya, as she walked towards him in a slinky, yet modest deep red dress that circled her neck before dipping just below her shoulder blades, the satin material flowed loose and elegant as she sauntered towards him slowly.

With an inclination of her head she said, “The Emperor is ready to see you now Lord Vader.”

With a nod he followed her into the familiar room known as the Emperor’s Court, the room was a mammoth sphere, pillars near one hundred meters high circled the room in a pattern of white and black marble, the floor and walls too glistened white and a wide, blood red carpet led from the entrance door to the throne of the Emperor. With a quick glance around the room Anakin could see that there were only a small number of individuals in attendance at court today, perhaps a mere fifty to one hundred people compared to the thousands that the room could hold.

He was cautiously hopeful at first, for at least whatever was to happen would only be done so amongst a small number of people. But he soon realised with a sickening lurch exactly who these people were. His Master had called upon the most powerful and the most influential people to be in attendance today. These people varied from the Heads of the Techno Union and the Banking Clan, to important senators and their advisors from crucial planets, but most of all, to the three High Generals of the Emperor’s Grand Army - one of whom had been his previous Captain of the 501st. The Generals were accompanied by their Commanders and Captains and so in the end there were more military personnel in the audience than any other.

Anakin exhaled loudly as his heart thumped frantically. He didn’t care for the former individuals though he understood that his Master had called them here both as a warning to himself and them. They were being shown what happens to those who defy the Emperor and he was being told that all the prominent leaders of the Galaxy now knew of his betrayal. He didn’t care what they thought, not really, but he knew that to be punished before such powerful people would call into question Lord Vader’s authority. Nobody had dared questioned his authority since the fall of his Republic, they had all been too frightened to, but now his Master was giving them open permission to do so.

But what made his body tremble with fear was the sight of the Generals, the three individuals who, other than his Master, he worked with the closest and therefore, whose opinions he cared for the greatest. He squeezed his eyes shut rapidly and fought to maintain his composure, just the presence of his men in a setting where they needn’t be caused his breath to stutter uncomfortably in his throat.

The hall was silent as he strode towards his Emperor, usually there was constant quiet mutterings until his Master rose and begun the session, now though the hush of the large room only indicated to Anakin that all present had been told to stay quiet throughout the proceedings to come. The abnormal request reaffirmed the seriousness of the situation. His Master wanted everyone’s full attention so that they may know the gravity of his betrayal.

Strangely, he felt less nervous now than in the past two standard weeks when he had been left alone with his thoughts. In isolation and with none to occupy his mind his dread had imagined scenarios that had left him a shaking, hysterical mess on multiple occasions.

As he approached the Emperor’s throne Sinya left him to join his Master’s side where she stood behind the raised dais along with the other advisors. Obi-Wan sat with his legs spread but his back straight and his hands placed on either side of the thrones arm rests. His meticulously polished black boots rode high up his calf to blend flawlessly with his robes and he wore his customary wine red cape.

Automatically, Anakin folded himself down onto one knee and bent his head, “My Lord Emperor,” he murmured to the floor.

When no reply came to the traditional greeting he flicked a glance up from beneath his lashes to only be caught in the snare of his Master’s hard golden eyes.

“Rise Lord Vader.”

He swallowed thickly and rose slowly, hoping that the quiver of his limbs wasn’t noticeable. His Master’s tone was cold and deliberate, hinting at no warmth for the man before him.

“Do you know why you are here?” his Master said, poised and calm.

He clenched his fists behind his back and breathed quietly, “I do, Master.”

“Then you know that you are to be punished as a result of your betrayal to myself as your Master and Emperor, but also because of your betrayal against the Empire - who you have sworn fealty to, when you decided to deliberately disobey my orders.”

Anakin bit at his gum desperately, hoping that by doing so he wouldn’t release the sob that had arisen in his throat at his Master’s detached words.

“Approximately three standard weeks ago you were stationed on the planet of Shili with instructions to capture the high officials of the Togruta Government after they had refused to join _our_ Empire,” his Master lilted, contempt clear on his face, “only to let them go because of your own weak will and soft heart.”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the hot tears that welled threateningly behind his lids, he struggled to take steadying breaths against the accumulating panic clawing at his throat. For some reason, his treason laid out bare for all to see was more humiliating than he could have imagined.

Lord Vader was known throughout the Galaxy as the Blood Bathed Invader for his hard-hearted, brutal slaughtering of those who refused his Master’s offer to join their Empire. He was vicious and volatile and cared for none that dared cross his path. His power as a Jedi was laughable in comparison to the strength that he possessed as a Sith and not once had he thought to consider all the rage and grief of those he left behind. He didn’t need to, the dark side of the Force was intrinsic to who he was and there was none in the Galaxy who could challenge him.

Some presumed that his Master could, that surely the Emperor must be the more powerful of the two for he was the ruler of the Galaxy. Little did they know that it was only so because Anakin wanted it to be. There was only one person who Anakin would willingly submit to and he had never regretted that decision, not even now.

At his Master’s words he heard some gasps of surprise throughout the crowd, none would have ever believed that Lord Vader was capable of showing mercy. Undoubtedly many were wondering why he had, but only he and his Master knew why the Togruta’s meant something to him.

His Master continued in that same cold voice, “Not only did you let them go but you done so with the knowledge that they, and many others on the planet, would go on to join the Rebellion whereby they had been in communication with a former Jedi Padawan. This is perhaps the most heinous part of your betrayal Lord Vader. You allowed these people to leave knowing that they would be joining a Rebellion in which our Empire, and _your_ men, are currently fighting against. Do you acknowledge that you committed these treasonous deeds?”

“I do, Master,” he murmured.

With a punch to the gut he realised he had not considered how his actions would be seen by his men and how in by aiding the Rebellion he would be betraying the trust of those who whole heartedly followed him into war. He felt shame arise in him as the full extent of his selfishness became known. To his right hand side he determinedly did not turn to look at the Generals, but he could feel their gazes on him nonetheless.

As his honour dwindled amongst his men he realised with relief that his Master hadn’t mentioned who the Jedi Padawan had been. His Master was thoughtful and diligent and so Anakin knew that this exclusion had been deliberate. If his Master had named Ahsoka then the most powerful people in the Galaxy would have attempted to capture her, understandably presuming that such a capture would gain them profound favour with the Emperor. Anakin felt a swell of affection for his Master then, it had been Obi-Wan who had made that decision, not the Emperor. He was still trying to protect _their_ Padawan after all.

“As a result of your treason you will be stripped of your rank as Grand General and will instead be a Captain under General Tarkin for the foreseeable future.”

A small, mortifying whimper flew free from his mouth as humiliation rode high in his throat, his eyes flicked to his men where they were met with blank and purposefully indifferent stares. He hung his head as he fought against the debasement of his demotion, never had he thought that he would care so much for the loss of something he gave no consideration to. For although he knew that his position and rank gave him the purpose and authority that he’d craved for as a Jedi, but had never been truly trusted with, it was the separation of him from his men that was the hardest to accept.

It shouldn’t have come as a revelation really, the remainder of the 501st had watched him be The Hero With No Fear, had accompanied him when the heated whispers of Sidious’ lies had awoken a flurry of fury so vile that he had eliminated the Jedi ruthlessly and finally, had watched with steadfast loyalty when his Master had joined his side with golden streaked eyes to gather the remnants of the war torn Galaxy to form an Empire that ruled without mercy.

His Master had not even placed him as a Captain amongst them; instead he had opted to isolate him from the men who had long ago become his friends. He was sure that his desolation was clear on his face, but he could not bear to look at his Master or his men and so he kept his head lowered as he tried to breathe through the pain of his sorrow.

“If I learn that you have disobeyed any of General Tarkin’s commands then you will be returned to Coruscant immediately, whereby you will not leave my sight. You will merely sit by my feet until you are called upon to act as my personal whore.”

At this he had made a distraught, high pitched noise. The sound and his Master’s words more humiliating and horrifying than anything his Master had said or done so far. He would have never expected his Master to debase him so publicly, to portray him as nothing more than something quick and easy, in which he could stick his cock into whenever he wanted.

Tears leaked from his eyes to roll down his reddened cheeks as he grit his teeth and clenched his fists. His heart was heavy with hurt as the disgrace of his Master’s words settled. It was rumoured amongst the Galaxy and within the Emperor’s court that he and his Master had a personal relationship but without any tangible proof it had only ever been gossip. Now though, not only had his Master confirmed the suspicions but he had also drawn attention towards his proclivity to submit. Anakin didn’t care that people knew he preferred to be fucked, in fact he thought it a privilege to have the hunger and lust of the most powerful man in Galaxy solely focused upon himself, what shamed him was that his Master had recognised it not out of reverence as he usually did within their home but as something that would be called upon to disgrace him.

It was a private wound his Master had inflicted and one he had done so with an intent gleam in his eyes and a harsh sneer on his face.

“Is that understood Lord Vader?”

“Yes, Master,” he whispered to the floor.

He kept his head lowered and away from the wandering eyes of shameless politicians as he tried to lessen the flow of his tears and calm the frantic thumping of his heart. He urgently wanted to leave and run home to where he could collapse onto his and his Master’s bed. Briefly, he wondered if he would still welcome Obi-Wan gladly or if the shame caused by his Master’s words had been severe enough to break the trust he held for him. Unsurprisingly he realised that no, they hadn’t, and he couldn’t think of anything his Master could do that would stop the profound and obsessive love he had for him, no matter the painful consequences.

He had hurt his Master and in return his Master had hurt him. And although his recent betrayal hadn’t been deliberate he knew that the damage he had caused to his and his Master’s relationship on that regretful day just over fourteen standard months ago would forever haunt all of his future actions, what he had done was irreversible – not only had he broke his Master’s heart that day, but he had torn his soul to shreds so that he was a forever changed man. His Master’s spitefulness of this moment paled in comparison to that.

“Look at me Lord Vader.”

He raised his head through blurred eyes, his quiet sobs echoing through the silent hall and his hands wringing repetitively behind his back. He was sure that in that moment he would never again be feared or admired for his unwavering strength. For here, at the mercy of his Master he only felt weak and small.

His Master had not moved an inch all the while, his body as unmovable as the marble in which he surrounded himself. Anakin found him to be so impossibly striking then, his auburn and grey streaked hair perfectly coiffed, his beautifully dangerous eyes rigid with anger and his Force signature flawlessly restrained so that he knew not an ounce of his Master’s true emotions.

His Master observed him silently with a focused gleam, he seemed to have found whatever it was that he’d been looking for for he gave the slightest of nods and then rather unexpectedly raised his voice so that the guards behind could hear his posh pitched tone.

“Bring in the prisoners.”

He dug his nails into his thigh desperately as sweat dripped from his neck to fall down his back, his panic so heady that he thought he may collapse from the stress of his Master’s unknown plans.

With a sharp inhale he watched as the Emperor’s Guards marched in eight shackled and bound Togruta’s. He breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t find the recognisable sight of his former Padawan, though Anakin could easily identify the others. The officials who he had let leave Shili all those weeks ago looked mostly unharmed, yet their cowering forms and their empty eyes spoke of their dejection openly.

Anakin knew instantaneously why they were there, their presence and his punishment only promising one conclusion. In that moment he found his confidence return, he would fulfil this task effortlessly and show his Master that he had no reason to doubt him ever again.

With a twitch of his lips his Master said, “I presume you know why these Togruta’s have been captured and brought to this place?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Well, tell us then Lord Vader,” his Master uttered grimly.

He swallowed thickly, “As a fitting punishment for my treason I must execute those who I willingly discharged despite knowing that by doing so I would be - ” he took a deep breath and hoped that his voice wouldn’t waver too noticeably, “ betraying you as my Master and Emperor.”

“Indeed.”

His Master’s lips pulled taught in a tight line as he continued observing him.

“And are you able to do so Lord Vader? Or will you be joining the execution list today?”

His Master’s callous words caused more tears to streak down his face, his brief return of self assurance withered in light of the detachment of the man he loved more than any other. Obi-Wan looked as though the possible execution of his apprentice, of his _lover_ , was nothing more than an inconvenience to his day. He wondered if perhaps he should refuse for it seemed impossible in that moment that his Master would ever look upon him with kindness or warmth ever again - and those were things that Anakin could not live without.

With pleading eyes he gazed at his Master, yearning to see the man that he knew to still be there and as he looked into the seemingly unfathomable depths of his Master’s golden glare he caught the faintest glimpse of apprehension. He wondered if his Master had let him see it or if he was truly desperate enough that he was able to find what he urgently needed to see.

For what he saw broke his heart anew. His Master, his Emperor, Obi-Wan, was _insecure._ He did not believe that Anakin would choose him.

He knew that his Master had always been modest, especially regarding his skills and capabilities. But it had never occurred to him that his Master would ever be insecure about _Anakin’s_ feelings for him. And yet, logically, he could see why his Master had come to that conclusion.

Obi-Wan had been discarded and placed second best repeatedly throughout his life.

First, by his own Master who had cast him aside for the Chosen One, then by himself when he had foolishly claimed another Master without a moment’s hesitation and then most recently, when he had let his love for Ahsoka outweigh the commands of his Master.

With a shaking hand he rubbed at his eyes pointlessly as he realised that in all of these instances he had been the cause of his Master’s insecurity. He had not done so with the intention to hurt Obi-Wan, he had either been too young or reckless to fully consider the consequences of his actions or to understand how Obi-Wan had been an unintentional victim, but his Master had been hurt nonetheless.

It pained him to know that his Master, _his_ Obi-Wan, was fearful of Anakin’s decision when it should have been obvious. That even after all the slaughtering and carnage he had left streaked upon the Galaxy in the name of his Master that he was still uncertain about Anakin’s devotion to him.

And so with durasteel resolve he knew he would do anything to prove to his Master that he had nothing to fear, for Anakin loved him above any other.

“I will gladly execute these prisoners Master, as proof that you will forever have my undying devotion and loyalty,” he said with determination.

“Very well,” his Master said, his hand sweeping to gesture across to the prisoners.

Anakin called his lightsaber to his hand and stalked towards the prisoners, they were kneeled with their heads down and necks vulnerable. There was no thrill or power lancing through his veins as he turned his crimson blade on, the dark side of the Force did not thrum with energy as it usually did when he slaughtered, instead his determination provoked a sense of tranquillity and calm that he was very rarely able to find within the Force.

He knew it was wrong that he didn’t care for these people, that they were innocent and were only here as a punishment for his crimes but, he felt no remorse. He had to do this as proof of his love - he had massacred thousands of innocents for much less.

Distantly, he was relieved to see that none of the Togruta’s had Ahsoka’s colouring because although it wouldn’t change his actions it made it easier to ignore the knowledge that he was harming his former Padawan by hurting her people and yet, he wouldn’t stop, not even for Ahsoka.

The familiar hum of his lightsaber filled his ears as he brought it down in eight swift strokes across the Togruta’s necks. Thankfully, there was no pleading, though quiet whimpers and sobbing could be heard if he cared to listen. The sound of their bodies slumping and heads rolling echoed around the silent hall, the hum of his lightsaber the only thing to be heard in the still aftermath.

Swiftly afterwards he placed his lightsaber back on his belt and walked towards his previous position where he once again went down on one knee.

“Master,” he murmured.

His heart pounded frantically against his chest and sweat trickled along his hairline as he waited for his Master’s judgement.

“You may rise Lord Vader.”

Anakin rose hesitantly and felt his gut squirm when his Master brought a hand up to rub at his beard absentmindedly, his expression contemplative.

“Lord Vader, although you have accepted the punishments for your treachery against myself and our Empire let this be a reminder to you that it will be the only occasion where you will find that my actions are merciful. If you are to ever again betray myself or our Empire you will not be granted such mercy.”

With a shuddering sigh from his trembling lips Anakin felt the truth of his Master’s stern words bleed into his very being, there was no mistaking the honesty in his Master’s harsh tone.

“Is that understood?” his Master said, as cool and composed as ever.

He inclined his head and gripped his hands tightly behind his back, “Yes, Master,” he replied softly.

In a twitch of his lips that almost looked like a smirk his Master gazed at him with rigid eyes, “Good. You will be off duty for the next few weeks and in the meantime you are expected to reflect upon your betrayal before you join General Tarkin where you will be stationed for a number of months on a mission in the Mid-Rim.”

He was unprepared for the quiet choked sob that escaped his throat at these words, the mortifying noise only audible to his Master and advisors. He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut firmly, not wanting to show any more weakness despite the ache in his chest. It hadn’t occurred to him that his Master would separate them for so long after this ordeal, when things were still so tense and unresolved between them.

He had yearned for his Master obsessively these past few months and he could not imagine having to do so again, especially when the unknown of their private relationship was still looming.

It was then that he realised that for although he had feared his public punishment, it was his personal punishment that filled him more so with dread. Knowing that his Master may come home and still be so distant and disappointed with him, perhaps even unwilling to offer him any form of solace or warmth was unbearable.

As he fought his rising anxiety his Master continued on unperturbed.

“You are dismissed now Lord Vader.”

With eyebrows pulled taught in sadness he replied quietly, “Thank you, Master.”

As he turned and followed the path of the familiar red carpet he resolutely kept his head up and his eyes facing forward, trying with all his might to be poised amongst his men regardless of his tear streaked face and shaky legs.

With uneven breaths and wet eyes he exited the Emperor’s Palace quickly, hastening his pace so that he could return home and weep privately. He felt off kilter, as though something were amiss and only his Master could rectify it.


	2. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin needs to make things right with his Master and as he does so, maybe he'll finally find peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats, you’ve surpassed the angst and have made it to the smut and fluff. Please read the tags carefully, specific warnings are below.
> 
> Warnings: If you are uncomfortable with BDSM, and specifically caning and/or power dynamics, then I wouldn’t recommend that you read this chapter. I want to make clear though, that even though there are aspects of what some consider ‘hard’ BDSM, such as caning or power dynamics, I wouldn’t consider this a hard BDSM scene. Not only is Obi-Wan a gentle, albeit firm dom, but the scene itself is more about guilt, forgiveness and eventual self-acceptance. I’m a firm believer that sex and specifically BDSM can help many people struggling with such emotions.
> 
> If you want to learn about safe BDSM etiquette then I recommend checking out the website Kink Mastery.
> 
> Happy reading!

The following day he awoke with puffy eyes and a sore head, the sun had already risen and Coruscant was teeming with life far below his and his Master’s private quarters. He had waited for his Master all night, his anxiety only increasing the longer his absence continued, his unease so heavy and palpable at the bottom of his stomach that he had been unable to eat as he sat in silence, feeling terribly sad and alone.

At some point in the night his frantic sobbing must have exhausted his already deprived body for he felt as though he had thankfully slept at least a few hours.

Later, after some time and when he had been sat on the floor staring out of the large glass window and observing the ships that only occasionally flew by this high up he finally heard his Master return. He tried to be calm, but his body tensed and his stomach heaved uneasily as he listened to his Master’s subtle steps come to stand next to him.

He peeked up at his Master from beneath his lashes to see a remarkably similar sight to what he had been greeted with on his initial return to Coruscant just over two standard weeks ago. His Master stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes intently focused ahead, almost distant and unaware of Anakin’s presence. He quickly returned to gazing out the window, his Master’s calm indifference once again aggravated his weary heart.

“Why didn’t you come back last night?” he finally croaked, before clearing his throat roughly.

“I thought it would be best if we had some space,” his Master replied coolly.

He felt his indignation flare then and wanted to grapple his Master to the floor so that he looked him in the eyes as he shrieked _how can you want space when we’ve been separated for months?! Didn’t you miss me at all? Don’t you want me anymore?_

Instead he said nothing and tried to ignore the uncomfortable atmosphere that encompassed the two of them in a space where there should have only been safety. That was what his and his Master’s home had become to him, a place of security and happiness that he hadn’t ever expected himself to find. He ached to not feel that peace now.

“Perhaps it would be best if I stayed somewhere else for a while.”

He whipped his head up violently, “ _What_?” he spat.

With a resigned sigh his Master murmured, “Come, let’s sit on the sofa and discuss this.”

He heaved himself up with unusual gracelessness as his limbs awkwardly trembled from adrenalin fired fear. His leg bounced constantly as he placed himself on the sofa, for once not caring that his Master may scorn him for his lack of control. His body and mind were wrought so tight from nerves that he worried any unforeseen actions would alight him like a vibroblade.

All the while his Master looked as dignified as ever, not a copper hair out of place as he removed his cape and placed himself next to Anakin. At least his Master sat somewhat more naturally than he had in court, here his posture slumped slightly as he leant back and his legs were spread impossibly wide in a familiar sprawl. Anakin felt his gaze drawn to the beloved stretch of his Master’s legs and flushed hotly when he couldn’t help but let his eyes roam to his Master’s lap, his body instinctively conjuring a phantom ache for where he yearned his Master to be.

A pointed cough drew his eyes up where he flushed again but this time from shame at his Master’s unimpressed scowl, undoubtedly able to discern Anakin’s thoughts easily.

When he couldn’t stand his Master’s silence any longer he mumbled sadly, “You can’t stay somewhere else Master. This is your home - our home.”

His Master’s brows pulled down at that, a poignant expression passing across his face as he seemed to deliberate what to say.

“You don’t want to stay here with me?” he asked with quiet alarm, feeling so very vulnerable as he awaited his Master’s reply. 

A subtle sigh fell from his Master’s lips and he ran a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of indecisiveness, “I don’t know.”

In a fit of desperation and unjustness he cried, “You promised that you would never leave me.”

His Master frowned in confusion before realisation settled across his features.

Anakin knew that he was too remembering that promise that Obi-Wan had made to him all those years ago, when their feelings for one another had still be so new and he had been worried that the start of something permanent may lead to the loss of someone he could not bear to lose. With earnest words and a tender touch his Master had reassured him and shown him otherwise.

“That’s not fair. After everything that’s happened you can hardly be so naive,” his Master snapped.

He felt himself physically recoil, his shoulders drawing up unreasonably high so that he could duck his head in the hope of protecting himself from his Master’s harsh words. He wanted to crawl away and hide and smoother himself in a black void where the emptiness would match his broken self.

His Master huffed and said, “I’m not saying that it would be permanent. But, I do need some time to myself and away from you. It would most likely only be for a few weeks.”

With wet eyes he glanced at his Master from between his fingers and for the first time in years he felt resentment return to creep up his spine. In the grey gloom cast by Coruscant’s controlled weather his Master looked stark and unforgiving, not once glancing at Anakin to offer comfort despite the intensity of his sorrow. When he had been Obi-Wan’s Padawan he had hated his Master’s unnerving self-control and loathed it even more so in those moments when he had needed more than his Master’s simple, platonic affection.

He had not thought that he would be the recipient of such detachment from his Master ever again. And yet, here he was, once more forgotten in the plight of his Master’s emotional impediment.

He wiped his face as best as he could whilst he glowered at his Master.

“By _your_ orders I’m due to leave on an extended mission in a few weeks. By the time you return we won’t have seen each other at all – not properly, not for months. Is that what you want, _Master?_ ” he sneered.

His anger sparked so uncontrollably that a pool of wild power surged through the room and hung like a thunderous cloud above them, ferocious sparks clapping as he failed to rein in his ire.

“Don’t.”

The frigid warning was uttered from the poised lips of his Master in the strict authoritative lilt that Anakin had come to hunger after, to always _obey._

He shivered against the need to submit, to fall to the floor and place himself between his Master’s knees, the need that always arose whenever his Master used that firm, commanding voice. He knew that his Master hadn’t used it with a sexual intention but his body reacted on instinct as thick arousal jolted in his stomach.

His Master’s head snapped around to look at him with fury wrought upon his face.

“Is that truly what you’re thinking about right now?” his Master snarled.

In a wretched display of weakness he whimpered from the shame caused by his abysmal shielding and ill-timed thoughts, his previous anger and lust evaporating like the moisture of Coruscant’s mist.

“I can’t help it,” he mumbled softly, “I miss you.”

He exhaled shakily as he watched his Master’s own anger dissipate and consider his words, his body stiff and his expression unreadable and just when he had begun to think that his Master would scold him some more his lips pulled down in sadness.

“I miss you too.”

A slither of hope bloomed across his heart at his Master’s quiet declaration. Perhaps his Master wouldn’t leave him; maybe he did still want him.

“You’ve only touched me the once,” he said, swallowing thickly, “since I’ve been back.”

And that touch hadn’t exactly been the contact that Anakin had been yearning after for months.

With a harsh frown his Master replied, “Can you blame me? You betrayed and lied to me, that’s hardly cause for me to throw myself at you.”

Anakin squirmed uncomfortably at the reminder of his disloyalty, “I know, I just...Just please don’t leave me Master,” he implored.

With his elbows placed on his knees and his hands twinning repeatedly in front of him he gnawed at his lip nervously as he awaited a response. After some time when Obi-Wan only continued to staunchly stare at some unseen spot he decided to try again.

“I can stay in one of the spare rooms, if you don’t want to share a bed with me,” he whispered miserably.

He raised his eyes from the floor and blinked slowly at his Master, only to see irritation sitting tightly on his features. His bottom lip trembled embarrassingly as he wondered what he had possibly said to incite his Master’s anger once more.

“That’s not the problem,” his Master gritted roughly. “Don’t think that I didn’t long for you as well whilst you were away. I spent many days wishing you were by my side, where you belong.”

He released a low whine at his Master’s admission, desperately wanting to crawl into his lap and smoother himself in his Master’s intoxicating rustic scent.

His Master’s lips twisted sharply into a fraught line. “But, I don’t know if I’m able to simply welcome you back into my arms as though nothing has happened. I suspect that if I were to stay here then that’s the impression that you’ll get.”

He grimaced at his Master’s correct assumption. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that to be welcomed back into his Master’s arms wouldn’t automatically earn him his Master’s forgiveness, yet, he couldn’t stop the minute well of hope that bloomed at the possibility that it would at least _start_ the process. And he would do anything right now to receive even a minuscule of indication that his Master wanted that to.

“I wouldn’t – I just think it would be better if you stayed, don’t you think it would be better if we could talk through everything before I leave Master?” he asked, raising his flesh hand to his hair and carding it through his curls.

In the heavy silence that followed he reluctantly admired his Master’s self-discipline. Though he was more relaxed now than the last time they had been alone together at home, his Master was as impermeable to Anakin’s upset as ever. His stern golden eyes and the hard lines of his posture never failed to bring forth admiration and jealously within himself. He longed to show similar attributes, to prove to his Master that he could have some control, while simultaneously he never tired of the intoxicating sight of his Master as he rendered people speechless from fear with the mere impervious stance of his body.

His Master shot him an incredulous look before solemnly replying. “Dare I say that you may have just made a reasonable suggestion?”

“It’s not impossible,” he murmured indignantly. “So, will you?”

As he tried to slow the frantic thumping of his pulse he sat tautly on the edge of the sofa, ready to crawl to his Master and plead for him to stay if he had to - no matter his pride, he could not let his Master leave before some form of resolution had been formed between them.

With a resigned sigh his Master said, “I will.”

Tears of happiness welled in his eyes as sweet, overwhelming relief flooded his body at his Master’s confirmation. He rubbed a shaky hand across his face and exhaled loudly into the still room, the unbearable knot in his stomach finally loosening.

Without realising he had done it Anakin moved swiftly to touch his Master, just a simple hand upon his arm, when he felt his Master flinch away from the contact.

His hand jerked violently from the rejection, shock causing his body to twitch intermittently as a distressed sob tore from his throat. He shoved himself away from his Master and rubbed at his eyes forcefully, desperately not wanting to cry, but incapable of stopping their flow as he wept into his palms.

He was unable to handle the maelstrom of his own thoughts; the confusion, the sadness, the fear. His Master had never recoiled from him before and by doing so now his Master had pained him more than he could bear.

The Force surged with his despair, screaming viciously as he begun to shatter and lose control of the barely there grip he had reined on it. The familiar darkness slithered thick and heavy through his mind, he tried to grapple it but his grasp was feeble under its imposing power.

Distantly, he was aware that that he couldn’t breathe, his throat tense and raw as he sobbed loudly. He clenched his fists tightly in his curls, trying anything to ground himself in the present when mercifully he felt a faint, familiar touch against his mind and Force signature, the presence a sharp, poised golden hue against the murky slipperiness of his own mind.

His Master enveloped him slowly, his signature wrestling his own until he became inundated with that familiar breathtaking control. His Master gathered the jagged and broken parts of him with a firm, gentle sweep that made him weep harder, but this time from pleasure as he relaxed into the comfort of his Master’s welcomed presence.

Softly, his Master moulded him into a supple ball of calm, still layered in shadows and heavy with grief, but manageable and so very quiet compared to the destruction of his previous aura.

As his breathing calmed and his harsh sobs turned to quiet sniffling he blinked open his dazed eyes, and sighed gently when he realised his Master was carding a soothing hand through his chaotic curls. The touch of his Master felt essential in that moment, it both comforted and reassured him that his Master did still want to touch him in some way.

“That’s good,” his Master purred, “just calm yourself.”

Like a soothed Lothcat he pushed into his Master’s hand, not caring for the obvious neediness of the action - he would take anything his Master was willing to give him.

“You didn’t want me to touch you,” he sniffled quietly.

“I was simply unprepared in that moment. You needn’t worry dear one, I will always want to touch you.”

The endearment and gentle reassurance caused him to whimper softly in satisfaction, he had longed for such treatment from his Master for what felt like years and to hear it now filled him with simple, unbridled happiness.

He wanted to reach out, to touch his Master in return, instead he dug his hands into his thighs and ignored the tremble of them as he did so.

“Oh – darling, it’s okay, you can touch me,” his Master whispered.

Anakin scrambled to pull himself closer to his Master. He wrapped his arms around him and placed his head against his chest, smiling faintly as he listened to the rhythmic thumping of his Master’s heart. He inhaled deeply as his Master’s familiar scent eased him into a recognisable well of contentment.

He grappled him tighter whenever Anakin felt him stir, fearful that his Master was attempting to leave his embrace. He had gone too long without his Master’s touch, had panicked fitfully for weeks that he would never be allowed to have this ever again and so he was terrified that it may all be a ploy, that his Master may heartlessly rip it away from him.

“Relax,” his Master said, leaning back against the sofa and pulling Anakin with him. “I’m staying here with you, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

The lull that accompanied their reunion was so still, so peaceful and so unlike anything Anakin had felt in a long time that he wasn’t really too surprised when sleep embraced his tired body.

***

Anakin awoke to dust reds and tinged oranges cast around the large room, the dusk of Coruscant alighting the space in hues whose tones spoke of desire and excitement. It was perhaps his favourite time of day on the city planet, the ethereal colours blending surprisingly seamlessly amongst the imposing skyscrapers.

He was by himself, still placed on the wide sofa and could faintly hear his Master talking to someone in the kitchen on what must be a Holocomm call.

His body no longer felt unbearably shattered and he knew it wasn’t due to the sleep he so desperately needed. His Master’s comfort and reassurance had alleviated the throbbing ache inside his chest that had been nauseatingly present the past few weeks. Though he knew his Master hadn’t forgiven him for his betrayals quite yet, just the knowledge that he was willing to try made Anakin’s steps seem almost lighter as he stood to his feet.

After a trip to the fresher he returned to their main room where he found Obi-Wan reading something on a Holopad.

“I made you a caf,” his Master said, indicating to a steaming cup placed on the glass table in front of them.

“Thanks,” he murmured, picking it up and once again sitting on the sofa as he took small sips.

The longer Anakin sat there the more uncomfortable he became, he knew that he should be happy that his Master had decided to stay and that it appeared he was willing to remain in Anakin’s company. Yet, the domesticity of the situation felt false. He couldn’t understand how his Master was sat there so calmly when only a few hours ago he had been so close to leaving.

His thoughts were a frustrating contradiction. He had wanted his Master to stay but now that he had received that very wish he wanted to complain. Perhaps it was his own fear talking, he was too worried that his Master’s cool acceptance would be taken from him at any moment.

Ultimately though, Anakin knew exactly what caused him to shift repeatedly on the soft sofa and play with his hair nervously. Guilt. 

His guilt was an almost tangible weight that dragged at his gut painfully. He had expected his Master to somehow punish him within the private confines of their quarters and instead, he had been left with no personal punishment at all. He knew he should be grateful, for there was to be no long months filled with disappointed stares and heartbreaking silences, as there had been the last time he had betrayed his Master.

And yet, as he sat there in contemplation he realised that not only had he expected a similar punishment, but that he _needed_ to be punished. He needed his Master to strip him raw so that he may see the full extent of Anakin’s remorse, of how he knew that he deserved to be punished here too, within their private home, for he had not just betrayed his Emperor and Master, but Obi-Wan too. In his surrender he wanted to show that he was forever his Master’s and that he would never betray him again. It felt only just that a punishment be used to demonstrate this.

His body shook and beads of sweat gathered at his neck as he considered what to do next, of what he wanted to do but trembled with fear over the very real risk of rejection.

As he fought to take steady breaths he placed his cup on the glass table and courageously slithered to the floor. From the corner of his eye he saw his Master still just slightly, his gaze no longer roaming continuously across the Holopad.

With a bowed head he crawled across the short space towards his Master, his flesh hand slippery with sweat and his other horribly loud as it clunked against the white marble floor. He settled himself between his Master’s glorious spread legs, placed his hands in his lap and kept his eyes lowered.

“Master,” he murmured.

After a few moments when his thumping pulse was all he could hear, his Master asked, “Yes?”

Panic clawed at his throat as he opened and closed his mouth comically, he didn’t quite know how to ask for what he wanted - didn’t know if he deserved to ask for anything.

He swallowed thickly and answered softly, “I-I...need...”

His hands shook as they rose and settled on his Master’s thighs, he dragged them as far as he dared, but far enough so that his Master would clearly understand his intention behind the action.

“I don’t think that would be best right now.”

He squeezed his eyes shut forcefully and went to move away when he felt warm hands clasp his wrists tightly.

“Look at me,” his Master uttered.

He raised his head and blinked his wet eyes rapidly.

“Don’t think that I don’t want you, because I do, very much so. I just don’t think I should give you what you’re asking for right now.”

As Obi-Wan leaned forward and spoke, the ruby tones of dusk illuminated his copper hair so that he seemed almost shrouded in a veil of dark crimson. His handsome face was sculpted with hard lines and honey eyes that could be both dangerous and flirtatious without a seconds thought. He wanted to reach out and card his hands through his Master’s thick hair, to ruin its usual elegance as he clutched at it in pleasure, he wanted his Master’s gaze to turn molten gold with only lust and love in their orbs.

“Why not?” he whispered.

His Master’s eyebrows pulled taught in concentration as he said, “You’re too willing to please me at the moment and so less likely to tell me to stop.”

He flicked his eyes away from his Master’s discerning gaze and stared absentmindedly out the large window. He agreed with his Master, somewhat. He _was_ overly eager to prove himself in some way and through his submission - in him handing over his safety to his Master, he was telling Obi-Wan that he could do as he pleased to him, but that he trusted him to always keep him safe.

That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t tell his Master to stop if necessary, to not do so would only break another layer of trust that he couldn’t fathom losing. This trust, the one that only the two of them were privy to and that bonded him to his Master in inexplicable ways was in the grand scheme of things, the most important trust of them all.

“I would,” he stated, returning his eyes to Obi-Wan’s with fierce determination, “Please believe me. I would never take away your agency like that.”

His Master’s face moved not an inch after his quiet declaration and Anakin felt apprehension return to cloud his thoughts, he didn’t know what he would do if he had broken this as well.

With a note of finality his Master said, “I do believe you.” Anakin watched as he rubbed at his beard in consideration, “But, your mindset is too duteous at the moment. It would be inappropriate for me to take advantage of that.”

As his Master’s firm words filled the quiet air between them Anakin felt an almost overwhelming sense of love swell in his chest, so potent that it trickled into his Force signature and filled the room with his adoration. For even now, after all the pain that he had inflicted upon his Master he was still considering Anakin first and foremost, still ensuring that he was kept safe and healthy.

Tears of appreciation welled in his eyes and as he took a shaky breath he stared at his Master with the utmost respect.

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage if I’ve asked you to.” He grasped his Master’s left hand and gently brought it up so that he could run his soft lips across his palm.

“Master, I _need_ this. I – I know that I don’t deserve it, but I need it. Please let me show you how sorry I am. How I’ll always be yours in every way Obi-Wan,” he pleaded desperately.

At the sound of his name his Master’s hand tightened in his grip, he didn’t know what it meant, if his pleading had helped or hindered his argument.

“You still remember your colours and safe word?”

He exhaled loudly into his Master’s palm and closed his trembling eyes, the bliss caused by his Master’s agreement was so great that he already felt overcome with pleasure.

“Of course,” he whispered, opening his eyes and glancing at his Master once again, “Do you remember yours?”

Anakin almost wept from joy when his question caused his Master’s brows to jump in surprise before his eyes, for the first time since he had returned to Coruscant just over two weeks ago, softened, a flicker of warmth returning to them and his Master’s golden aura. He couldn’t help but moan softly when that brief moment of his Master’s tenderness swept across him like a gentle breeze.

“I do,” his Master murmured quietly. He retrieved his hand and once again leant back against the sofa, placing his hands on his thighs casually.

“And what is it that you want exactly?”

He swallowed thickly, “I don’t know...something,” he replied, flushing when his Master cast him an unimpressed glare.

“Go and have a look and bring it back to me if you find anything,” his Master ordered.

With a slight nod he went to raise himself to stand –

“No,” his Master tutted, “on your knees.”

He blushed furiously at the order and yet, couldn’t help the twitch of his cock at his Master’s command.

He turned with adrenaline ablaze throughout his body and slowly crawled towards their bedroom door. His body felt tight and inflamed, heat spreading down his chest and back as he moved further away from his Master. He wondered if his Master was observing him all the while, watching the sway of his arse and hips and the heavy exhales of his breath or if he was uninterested and reading from his Holopad again. Strangely, both options made him pant from want.

As he entered their bedroom his gaze was drawn to the large wardrobe where his Master stored their toys, he stood up on wobbly legs as he opened the wardrobe door. Displayed in clear draws were a variety of objects; restraints, whips, paddles and many other objects. Anakin pulled the draws open and allowed his fingers to graze them each with soft worship, he had had some of the most pleasurable experiences of his life with these objects and just touching them now made his cock thicken.

And though they each offered their own benefits none felt quite right for what he needed in that moment and so he glanced up with bated breath and felt a sharp ache of want jerk in his stomach as his eyes landed on the canes. Both were hanging suspended from the wardrobe, looking as perfectly maintained as ever, despite his months long absence. The knowledge that his Master still looked after their toys even when he wasn’t there made him want to fall to his knees in adulation.

He bypassed the Lexan cane and went for the Dragon Rattan, it was thicker and longer and would hurt more, and that was exactly what he wanted.

Not wanting to dirty the cane he placed it in between his teeth and once again fell to his knees.

His actions felt incredibly loud within the quiet of their home, the rustling of his clothes and thud of his body moving the only sounds he could hear as he crawled back towards his Master. The size of their quarters meant that the distance felt frustratingly long, but he soon quickened his pace when he saw that his Master was merely sat there awaiting his return patiently. Obi-Wan had one arm raised over the back of the sofa and the other still placed on his spread legs. There was nothing overtly seductive about the pose and yet, he still found himself near salivating over the fact that this was _his_ Master.

His Master took the cane as he once again placed himself between his legs and observed Anakin with a knowing glint in his eye.

“You want it hard tonight,” his Master stated.

“Yes,” Anakin said, his gaze open and eager.

“Excuse me?” uttered his Master, displeasure on his face.

His stomach swooped as he gasped hotly, “Yes, _Master_.”

“I had thought that you wanted my cock.”

He frowned in confusion, “I do, Master.”

At this his Master cast him a smirk and crooned, “I hardly think you deserve both darling. So what will it be, the cane or my cock?”

He wriggled on his knees and blinked rapidly as he struggled with deciding between the two options.

Whilst he had been touring the Outer Rim in a blaze of bloodlust and fury he had been desperate for his Master’s cock, had shoved his fingers and any suitable object he could find inside himself incessantly, miserably hoping that they would bring him something, _anything_ , in comparison to the pleasure that his Master could invoke.

They had failed every single time.

He had yearned obsessively to feel the hard ridges of his Master’s weighty cock as he pushed inside him, had left himself spent and gasping into his bed sheets just imagining being split open on that thick cock. The decision was easy, surely –

“The cane, Master.”

His Master looked unsurprised by his answer and merely replied, “Good.”

And when Anakin thought about it, he wasn’t surprised either. This wasn’t about his pleasure after all, although that was a welcome afterthought, this was about giving himself to his Master. To show that he could trust Anakin and that hopefully, with each hard hit of the cane, he would see how Anakin belonged to him always.

“How many hits would you like tonight?”

“As many as you think is necessary, Master.”

His Master trailed soft fingers along the length of the cane, his touch delicate in its reverence. “Very well, and if it’s too much what will you say?”

“Royalty, Master.”

With a tip of his head his Master gave him a very faint smile, “Good, and I will say Rain.”

As his Master checked the cane and ensured it was safe Anakin nibbled at his lips and squirmed on his knees, anticipation had begun to trickle down his spine so that sweat gathered in his hairline and his body strung itself taut.

“Go and strip and position yourself where you want to be.”

“Yes, Master,” he murmured, before turning and once again crawling towards their bedroom.

His body and mind were jittery as he moved, for although the excitement that thrummed through his veins was standard the increased nervousness was new. It wasn’t the knowledge of impending pain that caused his limbs to tremble, but the unwanted thought that this may not be enough, that his Master may not forgive him and was only agreeing to appease him.

Once he was in their bedroom he stood and promptly stripped, making sure to fold his clothes carefully and place them neatly on a chair. Their bed was a high, solid mahogany four poster covered in dark blue sheets placed near the floor to ceiling glass windows. He situated himself bent over the bed with two pillows placed below him on either side of his hips, his feet firmly on the floor and away from the door so that he could gaze out at Coruscant’s skyline. As he waited for his Master he placed his head on his stretched arms and attempted to slower his pulse, his heart so frantic that he worried it could be heard in the quiet room.

After some time he heard his Master enter, he seemed to place multiple items on the bedside table behind Anakin before he moved with soft footsteps to stand in front of him.

The soft glow of Coruscant’s setting sun shrouded his Master in glowing hues, his silhouette tinted by the array of colours so that he seemed both exquisitely beautiful and dangerous as Anakin stared up at him. His copper hair shined under the burnished shades, his body was framed entirely in black fabric with a peek of pale skin from his strong forearms and his stance was imposing as he held the cane firmly in his right hand. Obi-Wan looked powerful, and Anakin felt his cock twitch against the soft sheets as he admired what was his.

With his left hand his Master reached forward and slowly pried Anakin’s hands loose from the bed sheets. He had not even realised that he had been clasping them at all and blushed hotly when his Master gave him an unreadable look.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes _-_ I need it, I need you to give it to me, _please_ Master,” he begged.

Instead of replying his Master reached up with his hand and traced gentle fingers around his mouth before he pushed his index and middle fingers inside. With a quiet whimper he permitted them entry immediately, where he then instinctively hollowed his cheeks and sucked on them desperately.

“Good boy,” his Master purred.

He whined high and needy and couldn’t stop the happy stutter of his heart upon hearing the praise, he hadn’t expected to hear such words fall from his Master’s lips ever again.

Soon enough his Master pulled away and moved to stand behind him.

As he laid there bent and vulnerable the air around them went quiet, the both of them immobile and tranquil with anticipation.

He was only aware of the frantic drumbeat of his pulse in his ears, of the sweat that had gathered in the curve of his back and amongst his tangled curls and of the loud sound of his own breath, shaky and uneven.

“Relax,” his Master murmured as he placed his left hand on Anakin’s lower back.

Anakin tried, he really did, he knew that it was best if his body calmed, if the tension in his muscles unclenched but they pulled taut as soon as he heard his Master move, as he swiftly brought the cane down hard against the fatty curve of both his arse cheeks.

He hissed and his body jerked automatically, even though he knew that that first hit hadn’t been too bad. His Master waited, as he knew he had to, until Anakin’s body settled once again.

He heard the rustle of his Master’s clothes as he quickly brought the cane down again, harder this time so that he grit his teeth and grimaced. It hurt - of course it did, the pain blooming across his cheeks and causing his body to twitch unpredictably.

His Master brought the cane down again and again and again, contacting his cheeks with firm, stiff strokes that throbbed and ached pain across the whole area. The impact of the cane was hard, it cracked against his skin and echoed loudly in the still room and with each thud his body thrummed anew like a livewire, he felt aflame, a raw nerve exposed for his Master to strike as he pleased.

It eased something inside his chest, a solid, unbearable lump that had been present since he had betrayed his Master on Shili. And with each burning hit that excruciating lump of guilt thawed, it left him gasping into the bed sheets, tears forming in his eyes until he sobbed from the pleasure invoked with each new bruise that marked his skin.

Just when he had become accustomed to the repetitive hits his Master moved away.

“Tell me why you wanted this,” his Master said, his voice stern and harsh in the quiet room.

“I – I...” he stammered.

His Master brought down four quick hits in rapid succession, the strikes were faster and lighter than before, resulting in jagged stings against his tender flesh rather than the dull thuds of before. The heady combination of the two aches made him gasp hotly in surprise, his half-hard cock thickening further after each hit.

“Tell me,” his Master ordered.

“B-because I-I h-hurt you, I-I betrayed you, M-master,” he wept.

“You did. You swore to me that you would never hurt me again, and you did.”

Two rigid hits were given, but further down, in the tender crevice where his arse and thighs met. He cried out not from the painful strikes but from the confirmation that he had hurt his Master, the physical ache trivial in comparison to the shattering of his heart. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “p-please forgive me, Master.”

He panted loudly as he awaited his Master’s reply, his mouth wide and open as he drooled and his eyes round and wet, his tears constantly streaming down his heated cheeks so that he dampened the sheets beneath his face.

His Master shifted and another round of hits were administered, this time a mixture between quick and sharp and hard and slow so that he was left in a constant state of suspense. And it was at this point that he became numb to the pain, he was aware that it was there, but it was distant and unimportant to him, the only thing that mattered was the repetitive motion of his Master hitting him, the loud crack of cane meeting skin until his entire body filled with pleasure.

The hurt was still present but it was different to the initial hits, this burn was deeper. He could feel the heat emanating from his reddened skin and knew that his tender flesh would bruise and eventually turn purple and blue, he groaned open mouthed and desperate into the bed as he imagined seeing the glorious marks his Master had left on him.

“Do you think you deserve to be forgiven?” his Master asked.

At this he clenched his hands in the sheets and squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered quietly, “No, Master.”

Three more whip fast hits had him moaning brokenly into the bed with ragged breaths.

“And why not?”

“Because I-I don’t deserve y-you, Master,” he choked.

His body was pliant and limp as he waited expectantly for the next hit and when one didn’t come a high, distressed keen tore itself from his throat, his Master’s silence after such a declaration made him claw at his impenetrable shields in panic.

“Hush, darling. I’m just observing you; I’m hardly done with you yet.”

He couldn’t help but preen under the attention and so on shaky legs he raised his hips and unashamedly presented himself to his Master, the movement a silent request for more. In response his Master ran a hand over his inflamed arse and stroked softly across the raised welts. He hissed and blinked widely at the sensation, but still pushed himself into his Master’s hand.

“You should know by now that only I get to decide what you deserve. Only I get to decide if you’ll be forgiven. Is that clear?”

He nodded frantically and blubbered desperately, “Yes, Master – _Please_ , Master.”

“Good boy,” his Master murmured, “now be still and let me give you what you deserve.”

Under his Master’s forceful hand he lowered his hips once again and cried out loudly as his Master brought the cane down with a resounding whack. It was harder than the others and caused him to scramble and gasp wetly into the sheets.

From then on his Master hardly broke his stride, he would change the speed and weight behind his strikes but they remained constant. Anakin rejoiced at each punishing hit that burned across his sensitive skin, knowing all the while that this was what he deserved – that it was what he needed. And the knowledge that his Master still wanted to give it to him made his hard cock pulse and leak.

He was unsure as to how many hits he had taken, all he knew was that the familiar and welcoming haze of pleasure had begun to creep into and settle across his mind. In that moment, the only thing that was important was allowing his Master to control every movement, trusting in him to provide Anakin with everything he needed. Knowing that his Master would decide what he deserved felt so unbearably good, all of his worries and concerns fading so that he became ply and malleable, ready for his Master to use and punish.

He wanted to grind into the bed below as his cock pulsed thick and hot against his stomach, but knew that he couldn’t without his Master’s permission. And so he laid there obediently as the rhythm of his Master’s hits echoed through him, as the all consuming _trust_ that he had for his Master settled bone deep and overwhelming into his skin.

That familiar _something_ licked through his veins – foggy and obscure, a semi-transparent lens that descended over him, building so that he was pliant under his Master’s hand and all he could think of was nothing but the cane meeting his skin. His ability to perceive his surroundings was difficult, he felt nothing but his Master punishing him, using him, giving him what he needed. Anakin let it all swell and gather within his chest, let the pain bleed and wring out of him so that all the hurt dripped away. His darkness, his anger and sorrow seeped from his very being so that only vast emptiness and peace remained.

At first, he had been ashamed of this need, of the need for his Master to use him, to dominate him. He had fought endlessly with the desire, had ignored its potency and pretended that he didn’t need it – that he couldn’t need it. How could he? How could a former slave want to be owned like he yearned for?

And yet, when this ignored need had finally been unearthed he had felt a spark of life bloom within himself, so unlike anything he had felt before, fervent and fierce. With his Master’s incomparable control he had flourished under every grip around his neck and bruise against his flesh, gave all of himself to each command and yielded his mind, body and soul to his Master so that he may see him laid bare in his hold. For here, under his Master’s guidance he was free, he could dismantle all that he had been and finally unshackle the heavy expectations of others and run endlessly. 

He was wrapped and held in pure, unadulterated pleasure. Every sensation was both near overpowering and not enough. Drool leaked and run from his open mouth, tears poured down his face from dazed, heavy eyes and small nonsensical noises thrown in with a constant stream of begging tumbled forth from his tongue.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there for, his body yielded in submission, open and accepting of everything his Master gave him. He knew only that his cock ached painfully against his stomach as it rubbed uselessly against the sheets and that the cane never ceased as it met his skin with deep, reverberating hits.

He was a sobbing, slurring mess when he eventually felt the bed dip as his Master came to lay beside him, and with surrender in his eyes and need carved into his face he begged, “ _P-please_ , M-master, _Obi-Wan – please, I-I’m so sorry,_ please - _“_

Arousal jolted thick and syrupy in his stomach when he met his Master’s eyes and was greeted to molten gold, heavy with lust and a near manic possessive need to _take._ He whined desperately at the domineering look his Master bestowed upon him and couldn’t help the rut of his hips against the bed as he was given the very thing he had fixated upon for months.

He clenched his fists in the sheets as his cock leaked, his mouth ajar and gasping for breath as he slurred wetly, “Please... _Master – “_

“What is it darling? Do you want to come?” his Master leered.

Anakin tried to nod his head, but his movements were too slow, too sluggish, his body too heavy and laden with satisfaction and so he merely pled desperately, “Yes, _Master_ – _please...”_

Resting on his left elbow his Master brought the cane up and gently stroked it along his back. He shuddered and felt goose bumps arise along his flesh, the touch of the cane so unbelievably tender in comparison to the pain it had just inflicted upon him.

“ _Please –_ please, _Master – “_ he cried frantically.

Distantly, he was aware that his body had begun to shake. Pain and pleasure had united so that adrenalin coursed through him like the whip fast crackle of a thunderbolt and he felt near overwhelmed with the urgency and need for his Master to consume him, to take him and do what he wanted with him again and again and again.

“Go on then. Let me watch you rub your cock against the sheets as you come for me.”

He whined pitifully at the words, had hoped naively that his Master would have at least let him touch his cock, but this would be enough - whatever his Master wanted from him would be enough.

And so with jerky and uncoordinated movements he lifted his hips and tried to rub his cock into the bed below him. He gasped as the hot welts across his arse pulled taught, a fresh wave of pain scattering throughout his body and causing him to moan ardently into the still air.

The quaking of his legs and the numbness of his arse meant that he either thrust too gently or too harshly, he was unable to build a rhythm and as a result, he choked on rough tears as his pleasure hung on a tightrope, just out of his reach.

His Master placed the cane on the bed and leant down to whisper in his ear, “Oh, darling. Can’t you come for me? I thought you would do anything to make me happy?”

He gasped and sobbed hysterically at his Master’s words, wept frenetically at the mere idea that he may be letting his Master down again. “I-I will,” he stammered, “I-I’d do _anything_ Master, a-anything to make y-you happy.”

As he spoke his Master pressed his nose into his hair and inhaled deeply. The close proximity of his Master after having been denied him for so long caused him to keen highly, his cock pulsing as Obi-Wan continued to smell him. Anakin could feel the hot, erratic breaths of his Master as he panted into his hair, could smell that rich, full scent as his presence encompassed him and wept some more from the aching pleasure that such small sensations provoked.

His body felt electrified by the aura of his Master, receptive and static, ready to respond to whatever was commanded of him and so, when his Master pulled back and leant his forehead against his own he whimpered softly, blissfully besieged with the warmth and desire radiating from his Master’s eyes.

“You’ve been so good for me darling. Taken everything I’ve given you. Now I want to see you as you unravel, I want to see you come apart from pleasure,” his Master murmured.

His hips continued rutting desperately, spurred on from the praise and soft words given. And he was close, so close _\- so unbearably close._ His dripping cock pulsed and jerked with every word that left his Master’s slick spit lips and his body trembled as it teetered on the brink of release.

He sobbed in despair, it wasn’t enough. He needed something, _anything,_ to push him over that ledge.

“ _Pleas-e,_ ” he gasped hotly against his Master’s mouth, “I-I’m so _close,_ please _M-master - please,_ I wanna come for y-you, wanna be _good_ for you, _please Obi-Wan – “_

His Master didn’t wait for him to finish whatever incomprehensible pleading he would have said next, instead he grasped his hair tightly and wrenched it up painfully so that his whole face was lifted and held in the firm grip of his Master’s hand as he stared at him with an intent gleam.

“You are good for me darling - such a good boy,” his Master said, then with the softest of whispers, “ _Anakin._ ”

The Force and his presence in it stilled for a minute second when with a subtle quiver both shattered with such a violent tremor that he knew they were ablaze with trillions of individual rays drenched in exquisite golden pleasure.

His orgasm and the long, shuddering pulses of his cock were secondary compared to the pleasure invoked at hearing his Master utter his name, his _true_ name, said in that familiar cadence with both warmth and poised control hidden in its depths.

His body pulled itself taught before releasing with a snap quick jerk that had him sobbing uncontrollably, his whole _being_ vibrating as its intensity threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to keep his eyes open throughout, wanted to look into his Master’s rich stare as he unravelled and shook with erratic gasps and wet cheeks, but he ended up closing them when his orgasm seemed never ending and his eyes instinctively rolled backwards, red hot heat and satisfaction flooding him addictively.

Even after some time had passed and his body had finally stopped quivering he still thrummed with hazy, delirious pleasure. Sweat was slick in the curve of his back and along his hairline where his messy curls were plastered to his head, his eyes were heavy and obscure, near impossible to hold open as his tears finally stopped and his body went lax in exhaustion.

He felt wrung out and raw, his very character ply and malleable and waiting to be reformed under his Master’s strong, patient hands. He had never felt so exposed and ready to be flayed if Obi-Wan so wished it, he would do anything his Master asked of him in that moment and he would do it willingly.

As he groggily tried to peek through the haze of his mind he breathed desperately, “ _Master, please._ ” He didn’t know what he was asking for, not really, only that he needed his Master to keep him tethered in some way.

Luckily, Obi-Wan understood – as he always did, and with the hand in his hair tightening once again he dragged Anakin’s face to his and kissed him slow and deep, the kiss and his presence strong and powerful as he licked his way into Anakin’s mouth and gathered him close by somehow pulling him apart bit by bit.

He let out a low moan as his Master gradually pried him open and felt his Force signature buckle with want under the compelling strength of his Master as he worked his way into Anakin’s very core. At the first press of his Master’s signature against his own he whimpered quietly from happiness when he felt his Master’s dense shields slowly start tumbling down with a precision that never failed to leave him in awe.

But for once, he was grateful that his Master didn’t grant him full, unfettered access, because even with his Master’s shields only partly withdrawn he was able to easily sense the hurt and heartbreak that leaked through the cracks.

At the first gentle sweep against the swollen pain he pulled back from his Master’s lips and sobbed quietly into his neck. His Master’s suffering was mostly hidden and guarded and yet, just that slight touch had left him as splintered and cracked as the driest trees on the hottest planet. 

As he sniffled and wept he brought his trembling flesh hand up to clutch in his Master’s hair, allowed it to card through the thick strands and grip on them tightly in anguish when his treacherous thoughts whispered words of vehemence in his ear. Of how could he have done this, how could he have caused pain against the very man who he had sworn to protect, obey and love until the end of time, how could he have sworn to bring down his wrath upon anyone who dared hurt him when it was he who had in fact hurt his Master the most?

“Hush, darling, its okay.” His Master held the back of his head within his large hand, comforting and firm.

When the soothing words were still unable to calm him his Master gently pushed forth a wealth of ardour that trickled like the softest silk down the webbed mesh of their bond.

He gasped hotly into his Master’s neck at the sensation. Passion, desire and adoration oozed into the pores of his self and left him shaking in their abundance. He had been despondent these past few weeks with the belief that his Master may never love him again and to feel it now, with such clarity and indisputable truth, was the greatest gift his Master had ever given him.

Anakin latched onto the incandescent blaze of his Master’s love and held it close to his chest, savoured its warmth so that he may never again be without it. As he quietened he softly weaved through his Master’s emotions and groaned loudly when he stroked the fiery hunger of Obi-Wan’s lust, he encouraged it to bloom, to become the inescapable inferno he knew it could be.

His efforts were met with a harsh tug against his hair from where he was then pulled back forcefully and his mouth suddenly pried open with a hot, dominating tongue. He eagerly reciprocated, shoved his tongue back and moaned when his hair was tugged again as his Master’s movements turned slow and sensual.

When they withdrew, breaths erratic and panting, he mumbled hazily, “You still want me?”

“How can I not, dear one? When your pleasure looks and feels like that?” his Master groaned.

Though he could effortlessly see the truth of his Master’s words in the dilation of his eyes he still dragged his hand down his Master’s body in search of proof. And as his fingers found the heavy weight of his Master’s thick cock his body jerked with heady arousal, he was too lethargic and his body too languid for his own cock to grow hard once again but that was unimportant, what was important was that his Master be given some resemblance of the pleasure he himself had just received.

“Please,” he begged, gripping the hard cock, “Master, _please._ ”

“What, darling?”

He rubbed at the thick length roughly and gasped in a tumbled rush, “I-I _need_ it, need you to come, need you to _cover_ me in it, _please_ Master - ”

With a coarse snarl his Master pulled away, but before Anakin could complain he was gently manoeuvred onto his back, a pillow pushed underneath him and his long legs chucked over his Master’s shoulders. His inflamed arse and upper thighs were hanging over the edge of the bed, thankfully unable to chafe against the fabric below.

His Master had been so composed the whole evening, his control tightly wrapped as it always was in these moments. But now, Anakin could see his self-control slipping, the tremble of his hands as he moved to unlace his trousers and the short, harsh panting of his breath both obvious signs of his desire.

He loved it, loved to see his Master’s resistance crumble and to know that he was the only person capable of unravelling the poised, stoic Obi-Wan Kenobi like this.

They both groaned lowly when his Master’s cock popped free and was swiftly grasped in a firm grip. It was a heavy, dripping mess and hung thickly between his Master’s thighs. His own cock gave a valiant twitch instinctively at the sight, he had visualized that beautiful cock repeatedly over the long months of his absence and couldn’t help the small whimper he emitted when thoughts of being stuffed full and wet with his Master’s come flooded him.

“Arms up,” his Master ordered, “spread yourself out like a good little whore for me.”

He moaned softly and raised his arms above his head, stretched and displayed himself so that his Master would be able to clearly see the sweat on his chest and the clumps of spend stuck along his soft cock and amongst his burnished curls.

“Yes – just like that,” his Master growled, his hand loose at the base of his cock before sliding up and gripping the stiff head with a firm twist of his wrist.

The usual flush of arousal could be seen on his Master’s cheeks and had spread to his neck where it was accompanied by droplets of sweat. They gathered in his hairline and curled his hair so that the roots turned dark and a familiar endearing lock of it fell forward into his eyes. His mouth had parted and was panting in an attempt to keep up with the exhalations from his heaving chest, whereas his eyebrows had tightened and pulled together, tensing so that multiple creases had formed in between. 

However, it was his Master’s eyes that were the most captivating right then, their usual gold had been eclipsed by a sharp, honey colour, always present in moments of ecstasy. His Master’s gaze within these moments was passionate and all consuming, he looked upon Anakin as though he wanted to posses him, telling him with his eyes that _this_ , what was between them, was for _him_ only. It was overwhelming to be the subject of his Master’s passion, to make a man known for his patience and control, fervent in his need to dominate him. And Anakin absolutely revelled in it, to have all of his Master’s attention and want and need placed upon himself was the highest praise he could have ever achieved.

He always returned his Master’s gaze, an unspoken confirmation passing between them – _yes, I’m yours to have, I’m yours to take, I’ll always only ever be yours._ It was dizzying and electric, and completely thrilling in ways the strongest liquor and the dark side of the Force could never be.

He whined high and needy when his Master’s pace turned from fast to frantic, his spare hand gripping Anakin’s thigh distractedly.

“ _Master,_ come on – please... _Obi-Wan,_ want you to get me wet with it – “

“ _Fuck – “_ his Master snarled.

Anakin watched entranced as his Master’s hand jerked himself uncontrollably, his eyes flickering between the glistening head disappearing and reappearing within Obi-Wan’s firm grip and staring up at him as his face contorted in pleasure.

With what balance he had he tipped his hips up just slightly to flaunt his cock, wanted his Master to see the state of himself because of the pleasure he had provided.

His Master’s hand stuttered briefly before resuming its frenetic pace, his nostrils flaring and mouth panting hotly.

“ _Yesss, Obi-Wan_ – “

His Master pulled on himself for a few more breathless moments before his hand stilled and with a hot gasp he whispered _‘Anakin’_ as his cock pulsed and spilled warm come across Anakin’s stomach and cock in three powerful spurts.

He moaned unashamedly as he was splashed and observed his Master coming undone, murmuring his true name as though it was the most intoxicating thing he had ever tasted.

“Master, _please –_ can I?” he implored.

As he wrung the last drops from his cock on quivering legs his Master rasped, “Yes darling, let me see.”

And so with listless arms he brought his hands down and ran them through the hot come splattered across his body. With determination he concentrated on rubbing the warm seed along his soft cock, ensured that all crevices were smothered in the liquid before moving up and spreading the remaining come across his stomach and up his chest.

He adored the feeling of his Master’s come saturating his skin, the knowledge that he was once again marked as his Master’s had him moaning quietly as he immersed himself in the heady, erotic scent.

With glazed and heated eyes he stared at Obi-Wan throughout, whimpering softly when fingers were dug into his thighs and contentment grew on his Master’s face as his come eventually disappeared.

“Now in your mouth,” his Master directed.

Even though there was none left he still lifted his flesh hand and sucked his index and middle fingers into his mouth, groaning obscenely as the after taste of his Master burst onto his tongue.

“Good boy, Anakin.”

With his fingers still in his mouth he smiled at his Master, his eyes undoubtedly reflecting his ease. He grimaced though when his legs were removed from his Master’s shoulders and he was jostled as he was once again shifted onto his stomach.

His mind was pleasantly muddled as he glanced over his shoulder back at his Master and watched him pick up a damp cloth from the bed side table. He couldn’t quite help the hiss that escaped his lips when it was brought to his injured arse and thighs. From his awkward position he could see numerous welts strewn and raised across his beaten flesh, in some instances the skin had flayed so that when cold dampness pressed across the lesions sharp stings spread from his arse, down the back of his legs and up his back.

He groaned lowly at the scattered pain. _That_ was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Okay?” his Master asked.

“ _Yesss,_ ” he slurred, “feels so _good_ , Master.”

His Master hummed and continued gently dabbing his bruises, he placed his head on his arms and closed his eyes, his body and mind loose as Obi-Wan tended to him. When a cap popped open he smelt the unmistakable odour of bacta and whined quietly in dismay.

“No,” he said, attempting to shift his hips away unsuccessfully, “Please, Master – no bacta.”

“ _Darling_ ,” his Master sighed in exasperation, “they’re bad, you need bacta.”

“I don’t,” he moaned, “ _please,_ I want to feel them, wanna be able to feel them for weeks.”

“Anakin – “

He glanced back at Obi-Wan and felt warmth infuse him when he was met with his Master’s concern.

“You know I can handle them, we hardly ever use bacta. Please let me feel them Master,” he pleaded as his Master’s brows furrowed in hesitancy.

“We can use normal salve, but no bacta. Please, Obi-Wan.”

They stubbornly glared at each other before his Master ceded with a huff of irritation and a, “Very well.”

He turned back to rest his head on his arms and looked out at the twinkling lights shining in the now darkened Coruscant skyline. Various lamps around their room were alight and cast an amber hue that appropriately set a mood of tranquillity. The peace of the moment was exactly what he and his Master needed after the pain of his betrayal and punishment.

He inhaled sharply when the first drop of alternative salve was spread across his grazed skin, the lotion soon became comforting though as it seeped and helped tend to his wounds. Anakin had always adored these soft moments afterwards, when his Master would care for him with meticulous and purposeful movements.

After some time and when he was fully immersed in a soothing lull his Master murmured, “Turn over for me.”

His tired limbs moved him sluggishly as he watched his Master crawl up the bed with another wet cloth, he smiled when his face was rubbed free of the spit coating his chin and the tear streaked lines on his face. And when the cloth was moved downwards with the intention of cleaning his chest he grabbed his Master’s wrist, pushed it away and moaned sloppily, “ _Nooo_ , I want it on me for as long as possible.”

Though his Master only granted him a stern look of disgust Anakin felt the whisper of amusement across their bond, “Such a dirty boy, Anakin.”

He hummed in agreement and grinned at his Master widely, “You love it Master – love knowing that I’m covered in your come.”

His Master’s silence only helped verify what Anakin already knew to be true and so he laughed in delight when Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance.

“Do you need the fresher, or something to eat?” his Master asked as he walked to their hamper and chucked the dirty wash cloths inside.

“No, I just need you,” he whispered, lifting his arms up slightly and making grabbing motions with his hands. He knew it was childish, but found that he didn’t care, all he wanted was his Master touching him.

“Patience, dear one.”

Instead of letting him reply his Master encouraged him to gently sit up where a glass of water was quickly pressed to his lips. He gulped the cool liquid down, sighing as it helped to alleviate the raw patches caused by his frantic crying.

Once empty the glass was swiftly placed on the side again and he watched rapt as his Master drunk his own water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

 _Kriff_ , even just the sight of that got him hot.

His Master shook his head in disbelief as his lips quirked, “Insatiable,” he muttered, whilst placing his glass on the table, “your shields are absolutely terrible right now darling.”

“I know, Master,” he replied smugly.

His words were only greeted with a huff as his Master moved himself up the bed, shuffling some pillows against the headboard so that he could lean back comfortably.

“Come,” his Master beckoned with a tip of his head and a soft smile.

Anakin wriggled up slowly, cautious of his arse and thighs as they stretched uncomfortably with his movements. He tucked his head within his Master’s neck and threw his mechno arm around his waist. When he had settled he briefly glanced behind himself and admired his Master’s work, his skin was marred with numerous cuts and bruises, a light sheen from the salve making them shimmer unusually.

“They look good,” he mumbled.

“It wasn’t too much?” his Master asked cautiously.

He glanced back to see his Master nibbling on his lips in an unusual display of anxiety. Anakin swallowed thickly at the sight and lifted his arm to his Master’s face and allowed the cool metal to turn it until his Master’s eyes were meeting his own.

“It’s exactly what I wanted, what I _needed,_ thank you, Obi-Wan.”

Anakin watched in wonder as a light blush tinted his Master’s cheeks, his own cheeks flushing when his Master’s hand came up to caress his cheek, “You’re welcome, dear one.”

He brought his head down again and rested it against his Master’s neck. And for the first time in a month he felt as calm as a still lake, he knew that ripples would soon emerge; his demotion, his soon to be absence and of course, the trust that he would once again have to painstakingly rebuild, but for now he was only pleased that he was in his Master’s willing embrace.

They laid there in silence for some time, his Master faintly stroking his fingers up and down Anakin’s back with his cheek lightly rested on the top of his head.

He felt small puffs of air move his hair when his Master suddenly whispered, “I missed you so much Anakin.”

The sincerity and vulnerability of his Master’s softly spoken words made his breath hitch and tears well, “And I you, Master,” he sighed earnestly.

He gripped at Obi-Wan harder, never wanted to be apart from him ever again. But, when he peered at his Master along their bond he was met with a small tangle of unease.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, only for his Master to lift his head and turn it aside. He moved his hand to his Master’s cheek and forced his eyes upon him, “Please tell me, I can tell that something’s wrong, what is it?” he implored.

With a quiet sigh his Master uttered, “I was too lenient in Court with you Anakin.”

He frowned in consideration at this, had his Master been too lenient? He had had his rank stripped from him, his personal relationship and wants revealed and shamed before the whole Emperor’s Court and had been made to execute the very people who he had freed.

“I – I...” he stuttered.

“If it had been anyone else they would be dead.”

He gnawed at his lip nervously and lowered his eyes in shame, his Master was correct as always. He remembered the paralysing fear from just over two standard weeks ago when he had returned to his Master’s side and had been so sure that he would either be killed or exiled, he had not dared to even contemplate the possibility of mercy, it had seemed too unlikely.

His Master raised his hand to his face where he rubbed at it and his beard tiredly, suddenly looking very weary and not at all like his usual composed self.

“Master?” he posed quietly.

“Why did you do it Anakin? Why did you put me in that position?” his Master asked, his voice pitched high from hurt as his eyes shuttered closed.

 _Nonononono_ he felt his heart crumble as he listened to his Master’s distress, the distress that _he_ had caused.

He swallowed against the tight squeeze clawing at his throat, “I – I...” he trembled, “I – I didn’t mean to.”

He curled his hands in thick copper hair and leaned up to press his forehead to his Master’s with damp, earnest eyes. Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered open to meet his, their golden glow dimmed from sadness.

“P-please believe me,” he whispered as soft tears fell down his cheeks, “I – I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan.”

With gentle, calloused thumbs his Master wiped away his tears and gazed at him with more tenderness than he thought possible.

“Oh darling, I know,” his Master murmured.

In the aftermath of his Master’s acceptance he returned to trailing soft fingertips along Anakin’s back and shoulders, but despite the comforting gesture he could still feel unease cloud his Master’s thoughts.

“You think there’s going to be problems because you were too lenient,” he stated with certainty.

With a huff of acquiescence his Master shuffled them carefully so that Anakin’s head was placed on his chest from where he stared up at his Master patiently.

“I do,” his Master agreed. “I placed you under General Tarkin not just as a punishment but, because I also need you to report back to me any signs of revolt by himself or his men. Tarkin may have bent to our rule but he’s still resentful that he hasn’t risen more so in rank as he would have under Sidious.”

Anakin frowned in confusion, “That should be easy, right? Tarkin has always liked me.”

“He liked you during the Clone War darling, before he knew about us.”

He looked at his Master in alarm, “How long has he known for? He can’t care that much if he’s never mentioned anything.”

“I suspect he’s known for a while,” his Master admitted, “he is very observant and he likely hasn’t mentioned anything yet because he was waiting for the right moment.”

“Which you’ve just taken from him...- I don’t understand,” he confessed in embarrassment.

“Tarkin has been unhappy since our creation of the Empire, mostly because we were once Jedi. He’s been waiting for proof that our empathy would cause problems. And he’s now been proven correct, both by your actions with the Togruta’s and by my leniency with you – who for all intents and purposes is a traitor and should have been executed...” his Master trailed off, his face lined with grief, “but I was unable to do so because of what you mean to me. It was what he needed to show that we cannot rule.”

He smoothed his hand across the dark fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic as his head hung in shame, he had never presumed that his actions would have these sort of consequences. He had never understood politics and as a result, it was yet another thing his Master had to manage.

“I’m sorry...”

“Oh, Anakin – it’s not your fault. You may have been the catalyst for such an uprising to start but it’s been building for a while and would have happened one way or another,” his Master uttered confidently, tipping Anakin’s chin up and smiling at him warmly.

“But still...” he mumbled. “Can’t we just kill him?”

His Master’s brows jumped in surprise before he emitted a startled chuckle. Anakin glared at him in bafflement - and infatuation - he had been completely serious!

“No darling, we can’t just kill him,” his Master snarked and then snickered when Anakin pulled a face at his condescension, “he has many supporters, most dating back from his time with Sidious, we’ll need to try and get them on our side. This will likely take too long, so I imagine it’ll just be easier for you to find proof of his plans to revolt – then we can kill him.”

He laughed loudly before answering with glee, “That sounds more like my style.”

“Hmmm, I know.”

With some hesitancy he asked, “How long do you think I’ll be with Tarkin for?”

His Master’s gaze was impossible to read as he said, “For as long as I say.”

As he moved more of himself on top of his Master he wriggled his flesh hand under his Master’s tunic and stroked it across the toned muscles, ran it through the hair on his Master’s chest whilst he considered what to say next.

“I reckon he’ll get so fed up with me he’ll ask you to take me back,” he joked.

His Master huffed a laugh, “I must admit to being quite intrigued as to how well you’ll follow his orders – because you must follow them, you do realise that, don’t you darling?”

He bit his gum tensely at the question and gazed at his Master in apprehension, the reminder of what he must do and his punishment if he didn’t comply causing him to fidget uncomfortably. Ultimately though, he knew that he would obey Tarkin’s orders, no matter the task, because the threat of disappointing his Master again was a weight he could not stand.

“I do Master, and I will. I won’t let you down,” he said, his sincerity ringing clear and true in the Force around them.

“I know you won’t.”

With a bashful grin he leant up and kissed his Master delicately, their tongues gliding together in slow sensuous slides.

“Will you contact me everyday whilst I’m away?” he posed as they pulled away.

“Of course I will.” His Master raised a hand and teased his fingers through Anakin’s tangled curls.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he murmured sadly, “the last few months were so hard.”

Obi-Wan gave him a sympathetic smile before he uttered, “They were, but I’m sure you’ll cope somehow.”

A lewd smirk appeared on his face, “My _techniques_ for coping weren’t so great last time.”

His Master raised an amused eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Yep, nothing was big enough or thick enough.”

Using his hand his Master wrenched him upwards with a harsh pull on his hair, “How often did you fuck yourself wishing it were me?” he rasped.

Exhilarating arousal shuddered through, always so heady when his Master said such heated words to him. “Whenever I could – nearly every day,” he gasped.

“Were you truly gagging for it that much? Such a whore for my cock that you couldn’t even go a few days without shoving something inside yourself?”

He keened and kissed his Master sloppily, groaning with need when his incessant tongue was met with Obi-Wan’s.

“Yes, I wanted it _so_ much,” he whined once they had parted.

“Well you won’t be getting it for weeks yet, not until you’ve healed. But until then you can show me how else you missed me.”

He blinked against the white hot desire that rolled through him and felt saliva begin to already pool in his mouth.

“Would you like that?” his Master murmured.

With a jerky nod he moaned, “Yes, _please_ Master.”

“Go on then darling,” his Master instructed, heavy lidded and with an intoxicating smirk, “suck my cock.”

His cock jolted awake and a small, desperate noise caught in his throat. He already ached with heavy want in his gut and as he wriggled deftly down his Master’s form that ache became a need as he was greeted with his Master’s half-hard cock.

And as he licked his lips and felt his heartbeat begin to frantically thump through his veins he glanced up at Obi-Wan and nearly cried when he saw happiness as clear as day on his face.

That was all he had wanted to see for so long now, all that was important to him, and even though difficulties between them lay ahead, he knew it would be okay for he had his Master by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: counts how many times I wrote ‘Master’ in this series...*cringes*  
> Also me: won’t let Obi-Wan say ‘Anakin’ until a pivotal moment *bashes head against the wall*  
> *sighs* why did I do this to myself? I made it a lot harder to write than it needed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on Tumblr so that we can squeal about these two together. [ToolMusicLover](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/toolmusiclover)


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